


Everyone knows I am going to Hell

by majmu



Series: Blasphemy [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, I don't know what to tell you man, M/M, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, cardinals - Freeform, what do you call it when you undress someone of their rings with your mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21681334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majmu/pseuds/majmu
Summary: "At eight the church closes. Be here at nine, and I'll teach you how to pray."
Relationships: Erasmus (Namarikonda)/Kjartan (majmu)
Series: Blasphemy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574434
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Everyone knows I am going to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> @ the cathedral I visited and the cardinals I had eye contact with: I'm so sorry
> 
> [Erasmus](https://refsheet.net/Namarikonda/erasmus)  
> [Kjartan](https://refsheet.net/majmu/Kjartan)

Kjartan had never been a big fan of religion. But he appreciated art and architecture, even if they were directly tied to religion. While he wasn't a fan, he also didn't have anything against it.

The plaza was a flurry of pigeons and people walking fast, with a few tourists standing around taking pictures. Kjartan looked at his ancient first generation touch screen phone, and decided he'd rather buy a pretty postcard. They'd have more pixels than anything he could do.

Wednesday morning, 9 AM. Most people weren't visiting the church at this time. He'd kinda been trusting that, actually. He didn’t do well with crowds nowadays.

Kjartan rounded the building, marveling at the statues all over the outer walls. Hundreds of years of labor, countless generations having only seen the work in progress part. And now it stood here, having been standing here for centuries. Old and beautiful.

The main door had a red cloaked figure standing there, and for a moment Kjartan wondered if it would cost money to step inside. When he met eyes with the man, he felt like a fool. Churches largely run on donations. Of course they are free to visit. The cardinal in the doorway was carefully holding a box with the text: "Donations" on it.

The cardinal looked at him, not averting his eyes as if with a wild animal not to be spooked, like most people hoping you'd visit would do. Instead he had a steady, almost demanding gaze. Kjartan didn't feel threatened, and instead came closer.

The cardinal seemed about the same height as him. He followed Kjartan with his eyes, before he smiled slightly. Kjartan couldn't tell if it was a real smile or not.

"Welcome", the man said, and his voice was sharp floral honey.

"Thank you", Kjartan said, his own steady and low, just like his stare as it slipped from the cardinal's eyes to his lips and jaw. A feeling almost lost to time clutched him, but he just let it pass as he stepped inside. 

Cravings for another day and another place.

The interior was huge. The height of the church would have suggested several stories in a normal building, but of course that wasn't the point here. The ceiling was so high, that if it had paintings on it they wouldn't be easy to see. But no one had sent a painter up so high, and the top part was just smooth stone arched beautifully between the columns. 

The stone walls didn't hold warmth, so the only reason it was less cold inside than out, was because there was no wind here. Though he wouldn't have been that surprised if the church had its own climate in here, to be fair. 

There was another cardinal crossing the threshold from a side room to the main area. He was an older man, just what you expected when you thought of what a church official would look like. Not like the cardinal on the doorway, that one only thirty or something. 

The senior cardinal nodded to him, and Kjartan lowered his chin in response. The man headed towards the front door, and Kjartan continued inwards, towards an indent in the church's wall. There was a glass box with a gilded chest, laced with Latin words all around. 

_'Martyr'_ , it said. _'Sanguine.'_ Familiar words, but not familiar enough to be recognizable for what they meant on a deeper scale. He'd never studied Latin. Only knew the names of some animals, plants and parts of human anatomy. Knowing proper nouns didn't make you understand grammar. 

He looked up to see a painting on the wall, having yellowed and darkened with time but still being recognizable. Many figures and an angel, he assumed.

There was an information plate to the side, and Kjartan moved to read it. It was in Italian. He had to whisper the words out loud to make sense of them. 

Shoes clacked in the mostly empty church, from what Kjartan assumed to be a tourist with heels. It wasn't until the steps continued towards him that he looked up, surprised to see the younger cardinal eyeing the chest as he stopped a few steps away from Kjartan. His shoes had hard heels. 

"Visiting for the first time?" he asked smoothly, an unusual sense of disinterest about him. Kjartan blinked at him, confused. 

"Ahh, yes. I've never been to this city, nor this church. It's beautiful."

The cardinal's eyebrows momentarily raised like he was unsurprised, and only took the compliment because he had to. Of course his church was beautiful.

"That gilded coffin holds a relic. The hand of a well known and loved priest from the sixteen hundreds. It still has his rings", the cardinal spoke. His hand clicked, and Kjartan noticed the numerous ornamental rings on his own fingers. 

Maybe he was aspiring to become something like that, too. Though Kjartan was pretty sure being a martyr wasn't a good thing to the person himself. 

"What is your name?" Kjartan asked, because he had difficulty finding interest in a dead martyr when he was looking at this young cardinal. Very much alive. The wind of outdoors had brushed some red to his cheeks, but it was fading indoors. 

The man's eyes shifted to look at Kjartan, but he didn't turn his head. 

"Erasmus."

Kjartan nodded deeply, as if paying his respects. 

"I'm Kjartan", he said, because it was smoother to say it than to wait for a question on it. Erasmus seemed like a man who wouldn't ask, anyway. 

Erasmus nodded and wet his lips with his tongue. Kjartan frowned just the slightest, trying to keep his face neutral. 

"This painting here", Erasmus started, walking past the martyr's nook and more towards the front of the building. Kjartan followed him like a puppy, not lost but still keen on this spesific pair of legs. 

"Mater Dolorosa. There are seven swords to symbolize the pain in Virgin Mary's life. It lists seven of them, seven tragedies she faced."

Kjartan looked at the painting, at the things Erasmus pointed out. Then he looked back, giving the same scrutiny to the cardinal. Erasmus looked away from the painting and back at him, too. His face tightened, but somehow not in a bad way. 

"Mater Dolorosa... what does it mean?" Kjartan asked. 

"The sorrowful mother."

Kjartan took a step closer to Erasmus, but looked at the painting. 

"Latin?"

"Yes." 

"Is studying Latin important in your kind of career? It's everywhere."

"Yes. I'm fluent in it."

"No one is fluent in Latin, it's a dead language", Kjartan said, like an idiot. 

"And yet I stand before you. Just because it isn't my first language nor alive, doesn't mean I can't be fluent in it."

Some negative tightness had crept into Erasmus' expression, when Kjartan looked back. He was thinking how to backpedal, but instead decided to change the subject. 

"What is your first language?" he asked, giving his full attention to the man in front of him again. 

"Italian", Erasmus hummed. He took a step closer to Kjartan, and Kjartan deduced that the cardinal was maybe a few centimeters taller than him. Or maybe it was the shoes.

"It's a beautiful language", Kjartan said, quieter now that they were less than a meter apart. He felt the red robe brush against his hip when Erasmus turned to look at the painting again. That profile was illegal. Would Kjartan go to Hell if he lusted after a cardinal? If that was the case, well. It was too late now. 

"It is. Though Latin brings you closer to God."

Kjartan nodded, not knowing what to say. That sentence had implications he wasn't ready to unravel. 

It wasn't uncomfortable per say, when Erasmus turned back to look at him. Neither said anything, and Kjartan noted how the cardinal's eyes seemed almost purple in the light of the church. Maybe it was the painted glass windows.

Erasmus had an unreadable look about him, but if he weren't dressed like a man of faith, Kjartan would say that he was maybe interested. Now? Not sure he'd be brave enough to find out. Maybe if they stumbled into each other in a bar, later.

Did cardinals drink alcohol?

Erasmus placed his hand on Kjartan's shoulder and squeezed.

"Well then. I will go to the confessional for the next hour. If there is anything on your chest, you are welcome to lighten your load."

Kjartan smiled and closed his eyes to nod.

"Of course."

He had a type, and it wouldn't stop his brain even if his type was a man of God. At least in a wooden box Erasmus wouldn't keep putting weird thoughts in his head. Not that he was doing it on purpose, anyway. 

Erasmus didn’t let go immediately, rubbing against Kjartan's shoulder with his thumb instead. Kjartan opened his eyes and met Erasmus' eyes. Something sparked.

"Anything?" Kjartan asked quietly, his eyelids dropping to hood his eyes a bit. Erasmus smiled, but didn’t answer. Instead he turned away, dragging his hand on Kjartan's bicep until he couldn't reach. Then he walked calmly to the other side of the church, where a confessional could be seen.

Well. Maybe he was doing it at least a bit on purpose.

-

Kjartan walked slowly around the church, stopping to read Italian texts out loud and to squint at paintings. Many needed to see a painting doctor of some kind. What were those even called?

Kjartan stole a look at the confessional again, even though the only one he was hiding his stare from was himself. And he already knew. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't intrigued.

What sinful stuff had he done during his life? Well, besides the obvious. Breaking the fifth commandment, as a soldier. Do not kill.

That was a deal breaker for most. Maybe he shouldn't say that at the confessional.

Then again, that was probably the point of a confessional. To confess nasty business. His wasn't a secret, though. And if God knows everything, they definitely know that Kjartan has put bullets through other people. 

Kjartan sighed to himself and rubbed at his scalp with his fingertips. He was overthinking this. He should leave and masturbate in his hotel room to the thought of those perfect lips on his dick.

Instead, because of his lack of self control, he headed towards the wooden structure. Someone was kneeling there, whispering at the confessional wall with a small door on it. Just big enough for sins to pass through. Or just a voice.

Kjartan pretended to focus on a mural on the wall, until then person stood up and headed to the front of the church to pray. Then he went in closer, quickly checking out his surroundings. Only a few people were in, and none of them seemed interested in the confessional. So he walked into the nook, kneeling down on the padded place placed where one's knees would be.

He was quiet for a few seconds, realizing that he didn’t know what the etiquette for this was. Uh oh.

"...this is my first time in a confessional, pardon me if I make a fool of myself", Kjartan said quietly. He immediately got the feeling he was talking too loud, and breathed sharply through his nose.

"You only need to speak the truth. Tell me, what brought you here?"

For a tiny second Kjartan was unsure if it was Erasmus in there, but in the end there was a melody to the words he thought he recognised. Then again, maybe it was a cardinal thing. Too much singing and all. 

But yeah, the truth? Uh.

"I'm... uh. I don't know if it counts, but I'm running away from some responsibilities now. I feel like I should go back, but I also know that it's better for me if I don't." Disgustingly vague. God would strike him down just for that.

Erasmus hummed, but didn’t comment. Just waited.

"...I'm ex military, so I have everything from that still stacked up on my head, too. Like... you know." Shooting people. Taking lives. "The normal stuff."

Again, no tangible reply. Kjartan wrung his hands nervously and realized that maybe he should clasp them together.

He didn't.

"I have a hard time controlling my mind and mouth, sometimes. Today-" he licked his lips, nervously thinking of the fastest way to walk out. Well, it wasn't rocket science. He could make a straight line from where he was to the front door with only one support structure in the way. I wouldn't be a difficult escape. 

"-I had some very indecent thoughts, out of nowhere. In this church. I'm pretty simple like that - sometimes I see a beautiful person, and I want to. Touch them." _Fuck them. Bite their ear or nape, give small kisses of affection on their back. Take a mouth full of them and swallow-_

Whoops. He was doing it again.

Kjartan had almost forgotten for a few seconds who he was supposed to be talking to. Or, well. He wasn't sure if the person in the confessional was supposed to be somewhat anonymous, too. He was pretty sure Erasmus knew it was him on this side too.

The lingering phantom feeling of Erasmus' fingers on his shoulder made him stay instead of backing away after that.

The silence was pretty potent before Erasmus broke it.

"Do you still have them, these thoughts?"

He sounded almost thoughtful, but not disgusted.

Kjartan felt some blood creeping onto his face.

"...Yes. I'm not sure they're going away anytime soon."

There was silence again, as if Erasmus was trying to think of the nicest way to say 'please stop undressing the clergy with your eyes'. That would probably be the nicest way to say it, to be honest.

Then he spoke:

"Two Hail Marys. You might just need a better place and time for your thoughts - but God forgives."

Kjartan sighed quietly. He heard Erasmus shift on the other side, before he started talking again. 

_"Deus, Pater misericordiárum, qui per mortem et resurrectiónem Fílii sui mundum sibi reconciliávit et Spíritum Sanctum effúdit in remissiónem peccatórum, per ministérium Ecclésiæ indulgéntiam tibi tríbuat et pacem. Et ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."_

Kjartan had no idea what had just happened, but in a way it was magical. Cleansing?

Just one more thing.

"Thank you. But I don't know the Hail Mary prayer."

Then he stood up, because that was way more embarrassing than admitting that he wanted to fuck someone. Welp, time to leave now.

The curtain in the middle of the confessional swung, and Erasmus stepped out. Kjartan had a vague feeling that was wrong. Stepping out when the person confessing hadn't had the time to leave discreetly.

Erasmus looked very done, if he was being honest. He closed the curtain of the confessional before he walked to Kjartan.

"You're not even Catholic, if you don't know the Hail Mary. Do you even believe in God, or are you just a tourist?" he challenged, stopping too close for comfort. If comfort would be personal space, that is. 

Kjartan could smell incence and mild cologne on Erasmus. For a moment he forgot he had been asked something.

"...That's a loaded question, sir", Kjartan mumbled, having slipped into the mental space of the army by accident. But calling Erasmus Father was definitely out of the question.

The reaction to the word _'sir'_ was almost immediate - Erasmus seemed to focus more sharply, his eyes darting around Kjartan's face like he was searching for something. Kjartan had nothing to hide, but he also had no idea what Erasmus wanted from him.

Erasmus seemed to take a deep breath.

"At eight the church closes. Be here at nine, and I'll teach you how to pray."

Kjartan choked, and Erasmus kept a steady eye contact until he walked back to the confessional. The curtain swung wide as he stepped back inside it.

Kjartan was left standing there, dumbfounded. And horny. 

-

It was dark early this time of year, so at nine it was full on night time. Kjartan had used up almost all of the battery in his phone from nervousness, and had just powered it down to keep it from dying in case he needed it. Luckily the street lights around the church illuminated the area just enough.

Why, oh why was he here again? Because he was hopeless? A hot cardinal promised to teach him Hail Maria? He hoped to God that wasn't all Erasmus had in mind. This situation would be embarrassing in that case.

The main door unlocked audibly, but didn't open. Kjartan waited for a few moments before he came closer and tried the door handle. It opened up smoothly.

Most of the lights were gone inside, but there were candles and old yellow wall lights on the sides and the front, illuminating icons and relics.

Someone (Erasmus, it was obviously Erasmus) was walking between the line of benches in the front, coming to the middle and looking towards the doorway. Kjartan closed the door.

"Lock it", Erasmus said without raising his voice. The silent space carried his voice clearly.

Kjartan turned back, wondering how this specific type of door would be locked from the inside.

It wasn't that difficult.

He left the door locked and walked farther in, unsettled by the silence. Only his own steps echoed in the church, then.

Erasmus was still standing there, watching him. It took a closer look at him for Kjartan to realize he wasn't wearing the red cardinal clothing, and instead had a... cape? And lighter clothing under it. Kjartan didn’t know what it was called, but it made him look way more hot than the cardinal clothes had. And there had been nothing wrong with the cardinal thing, except for the fact that those were probably work clothes that needed dry cleaning when dirty.

A few meters from Erasmus, Kjartan slowed down.

"So, uh... w-"

It took Erasmus approximately three and a half steps to reach him, and then he grabbed the front of his jacket. An instinctive reaction almost overpowered Kjartan's mind, and he grabbed back, ready to shove Erasmus to the ground violently. Luckily he managed to stop it, and instead just huffed and let himself be pushed against the benches. It wasn't too hard, he wouldn't bruise.

Erasmus looked at him intensely, and Kjartan realized that this was the last security step. The most obvious invitation without actually saying or doing anything. The last chance to side step.

Instead of doing any of that, Kjartan grinned and pulled Erasmus closer, dragging his mouth against the cardinal's jawline. Erasmus relaxed against him from a secret relief, but then pressed Kjartan harder against the side of the bench. His thigh was between Kjartan's legs.

Kjartan sighed and hooked his leg partially behind Erasmus', one hand grabbing the edge of the bench for balance. He let go of the cape, and instead placed his hand on the nape of Erasmus' neck. He didn’t pull the cardinal closer, reading the room and body language against him. Erasmus wasn't moldable. Whereas Kjartan was exactly that.

Erasmus unzipped Kjartan's leather jacket calmly, eyes down on what he was doing like he didn’t have lips and hot breath against his throat. Kjartan nibbled, and got a shove for that. He backed away and saw Erasmus' eyes blazing.

"No marks. On the neck."

Oh, well. That actually made a lot of sense.

Can't have a cardinal walking around with a hickey I guess.

"Yes, sir", Kjartan whispered, this time on purpose. Erasmus seemed to get distracted by it, and grabbed Kjartan's chin with his hand.

Then he kissed him.

If it could be called a kiss.

Kjartan almost felt like he had a piece bitten off of him, Erasmus' teeth grazing against his lower lip hard enough to make him taste blood. Kjartan groaned and turned his face to the side, slowed by the fact that Erasmus was still holding his chin tightly. He let him turn, but didn't let go.

Kjartan breathed into the other direction for a moment, licking his lower lip. There was no actual blood, he was pretty sure. Just angry tissue.

He felt a pull on his chin, Erasmus asking him to face him again. Kjartan resisted it a second, then let himself be pulled back in. Erasmus' face was hard to read, he almost looked like he was studying an ancient text or something. Definitely not like he was having Kjartan between himself and a line of benches as something hard was pressing against his thigh.

This time it was tongue and lips, but there was something violent about that too. Somehow Kjartan didn’t even mind this time, changing his expectations on the fly and grinding up against Erasmus' thigh. It was hard to breathe, so Kjartan moaned in between breaths to make some room for new air in his lungs.

Erasmus pulled away after a minute, and stepped back. Kjartan was left half leaning back above the bench, catching his breath with his jacket open. He was probably a mess. No, he was absolutely a mess.

"Come here", Erasmus said, his voice only slightly affected. He was moving towards the front, and Kjartan followed him, again. His jeans felt tight and jacket was hot, but he didn’t dare do anything before he knew what he was getting himself into.

They stepped up the few stairs on the front, and Kjartan thought that this was probably blasphemous. They were in a church, for God's sake.

That didn't seem to bother Erasmus, funnily enough.

Erasmus stopped in front of the table, or whatever it was called where a communion was blessed. He looked like he was deciding how he was going to throw Kjartan over the table.

Before all that, though...

Kjartan bent his knees enough that their height difference was more noticeable, and then he dropped to his knees in front on the cardinal, one hand coming to rest against his thigh. Erasmus leaned back against the table and didn't even hesitate when he started unbuttoning his pants.

Kjartan pressed his face closer, kissing the rings on Erasmus' fingers. Erasmus slowed down his movements to make it easier, and finally cupped Kjartan's chin with his hand. He pressed his thumb against Kjartan's lips, meeting no resistance as the mouth opened for him.

Erasmus had a ring on his thumb, and Kjartan carefully grabbed onto it with his teeth. Then he let go, to let Erasmus touch around his mouth as much as he wished. Against his gums, following the row of his teeth. Pressing down on his tongue, slipping as close to his throat as he could.

Then Erasmus pushed his pants down slightly, grabbing himself with his other hand. Kjartan basically spit his finger out of his mouth, saliva shining on his lower lip as he moved closer. Erasmus didn't move, but Kjartan could still feel him stop breathing. 

Kjartan placed his hand over Erasmus', and sucked the tip. The ringed finger slipped from underneath his and instead went into his hair, not yet pushing but definitely ready. 

Kjartan opened his mouth wider and sucked Erasmus deeper in, carefully keeping his teeth from touching any skin. He swallowed excess saliva and breathed through his nose, eyes closing to focus.

Erasmus' hands made idle movement against Kjartan's scalp, satisfaction radiating from his whole being. He tugged a bit on Kjartan's hair, and he slid closer to Erasmus' hips, tongue rubbing the underside of the cardinal's dick.

Kjartan found a slow rhythm, backing away and pushing closer again. Erasmus was big enough to reach into his throat, but to his luck Kjartan had the worst gag reaction. As in, it was nonexistent.

Erasmus groaned quietly, having to push away his hanging clothes every once in a while as they threatened to land on Kjartan's face.

Jaw aching, Kjartan finally pulled away, even when Erasmus pulled at his hair at that. He hadn't come here to just have his mouth fucked.

He opened his eyes and looked up, trousers tightening as he saw how Erasmus' pupils had dilated, and his hair was hanging on his face.

Kjartan pushed his hand into the pocket of his jacket to snatch something, and slowly got up. Erasmus let go of his hair. 

Kjartan shoved a condom against Erasmus' chest.

Erasmus didn’t move at first, but then he took the foil into his own hand.

"If I had an STD you'd have gotten it already", Erasmus said with a raised brow.

Kjartan licked around his mouth and smacked his lips.

"Yeah, well. I'm an idiot. But not idiot enough to walk away from here dripping my underwear."

"The worst prioritization in history. Take your jeans off."

Kjartan leaned down to untie his shoelaces, because there was no way he was going to get his pants off with shoes on.

"Yes sir", he muttered happily.

"The title is Father."

"Yeaah, right now that's a big no from me."

Erasmus barked a laugh, sudden and unexpected. He put the condom down on the table as he shrugged off the heavy cape, and the one under that. Then it was just a loose shirt and his trousers, which were still open. He'd tucked himself in at some point, probably not a fan of cool air on a wet dick.

It took about ten seconds of watching Kjartan fight with his shoes to get Erasmus to move. He sighed loudly and walked up, grabbing onto Kjartan's jacket and basically tossing him onto the table. It was right next to them, so it was more like... relocating slightly.

Kjartan let himself be bossed around, managing to kick the shoes off as he leaned over the table. Erasmus pressed against his back and reached around to unbutton his pants. His erection was easy to feel through the fabric.

Erasmus tugged open the zipper, and then grabbed onto the sides of the jeans and pulled down. Kjartan laughed breathlessly, both of his hands splayed against the table. His boxers were also pulled down, and he almost felt exposed.

But he didn’t, because Erasmus stood right behind him, the fabric of his trousers lightly dragging against Kjartan's bare skin. He reached over to grab the condom on the table, ripping it open. The crinkle it made sounded so loud in the church. Unbelievably out of place.

Kjartan could feel Erasmus backing away to put the condom on, cold air hitting him more than before. Then he heard more crinkling and felt something cool his his skin.

"It's pre-lubed", Erasmus said, sounding happily surprised by that as he emptied the extra lube on Kjartan. His fingers were cool when he spread it slightly.

"I cleaned up before I came here", Kjartan muttered, turning his head to see behind himself. Erasmus loomed over him, and tossed the foil on the floor when their eyes met. He'd better not forget to pick that up later.

"Aren't you a confident one."

"Just hopeful. And private prayer teachings sounded a bit... uh..."

Erasmus placed his hand against Kjartan's shoulder blades and pushed him down. He couldn't keep his head turned and faced forward again, forearms settled against the surface. 

"Oh, I'm still going to make you pray", Erasmus whispered, and finally Kjartan felt something slicked settle against him. He breathed in deeply, and bumped his forehead against the table when Erasmus pushed in.

Kjartan moved his arms under his head and breathed loudly through his mouth. His jacket was bunching up on his shoulders. Why hadn't he taken it off?

Erasmus' cool fingers pressed against the small of Kjartan's back as he moved slowly. Kjartan wasn't sure if it was for encouraging or leverage, but it did distract from the ache.

It wasn't very long before his body got used to it, and he could focus on how a hot cardinal was fucking him in a church. Was this one of his weird wet dreams?

Erasmus pushed fully in and stayed like that for a few seconds, his breathing loud over Kjartan's back. Kjartan wished he didn't have a jacket on. He wished he didn't even have a shirt on. He wanted to feel that breath on his bare skin.

He pushed back slightly, even though there was no more he could take. Erasmus seemed to read him though, and pulled back again. Not fully out, just enough to make a difference. Then he pushed in, and Kjartan pushed against him. They both let out sighs.

They did that a few times, before Erasmus pulled out completely. Kjartan made a questioning noise.

"Take that stupid jacket off and turn around", Erasmus said, voice strained like he was holding himself back from something. 

Kjartan pushed himself up, relieved to be undressing the jacket. He hadn't been sweating profusely yet, but it had been close.

The jacket landed on the stone floor, and then Erasmus was already in his space. Kjartan lifted himself carefully up on the table, kicking his jeans off completely, now actually thankful for the shirt. He felt the surface being pretty cold against bare skin. 

Erasmus lifted one of his legs over his shoulder and dragged him perfectly to the edge. The he was pressing in again, harder than before. Kjartan groaned and stroked his own erection, breathless before they'd even properly continued.

"Oh God", he whispered, and Erasmus snorted softly. He found a rhythm, one hand holding onto Kjartan's hip and the other on the table for support.

Kjartan closed his eyes and just felt for a moment. Erasmus above him, in him, filling him with a demanding tempo. The silence around them, easily forgotten into the background when they had other things to focus on. Erasmus' fingers as he reached to touch Kjartan's jaw.

Kjartan opened his eyes and met Erasmus' sharp stare. He really did have purple eyes. He was moving slightly slower now, every movement affecting the way he was touching Kjartan's stubbled chin. Kjartan parted his lips, and Erasmus moved his hand to touch them. Kjartan licked the fingers idly, before he opened his mouth properly and leaned up enough to wrap his lips around Erasmus' ring finger. That was the only finger without a ring, ironically.

Erasmus pulled his hand away slowly, and moved it on top of the one Kjartan had on his dick. 

"Stop. You don't need that."

Kjartan wanted to laugh, because he didn’t know how long Erasmus was ready to last, but they'd be here a while if he wanted to magic dick Kjartan over the edge.

Kjartan let go reluctantly, resting his hand on his chest instead.

Erasmus' hair was hanging over his face in small tufts that the cardinal tried to push behind his ears. Some of them kept falling back. It was a good look on him - slightly wrecked but still in control.

 _'I don't even know this man'_ , Kjartan thought hazily. It was a hard thought to grasp, when all he saw was a beautiful man over him, and all he felt was building pleasure from where their bodies met.

Erasmus' shirt was hanging loose, having slipped completely from his trousers. Its hem was brushing gently against Kjartan's stomach.

Kjartan reached to touch it, and then pushed his hand under it. Erasmus was looking at him with judgmental eyes, but didn't make a move to stop him.

Kjartan's fingers touched the skin of Erasmus' stomach, then chest. His muscles were trembling slightly from tension. Kjartan felt when his hand brushed against Erasmus' nipple, hard against his palm. He rubbed over it. Erasmus closed his eyes and took a sharp breath.

The cardinal readjusted his grip and position, thrusts more shallow now. After a few pushes Kjartan felt the dull pleasure of something brushing against his prostate. He left his mouth open and let his head fall back against the table with a bit too much speed. He whispered a few curse words in Russian, which made Erasmus lose his rhythm for a second. When he recovered he hissed something in Latin, but Kjartan could only assume. It sounded like an insult, which in turn made Kjartan laugh breathlessly.

Erasmus grabbed the other leg Kjartan had pressed against his hip, and lifted that, too, over his shoulder. The way he was moving made Kjartan think he was close. Bet he was starting to regret his decision to move Kjartan's hand away.

The thought was short lived. Erasmus closed his eyes and turned his face to the side to groan against Kjartan's knee. The sound raised goosebumps on Kjartan's skin.

Erasmus cracked his eyes open, bit the skin on the side of Kjartan's knee and started moving faster. Kjartan made a few pleased noises, and then reached back down to finish himself off. Erasmus smacked his hand away again, and instead grabbed him himself. It wasn't an encouraging squeeze, but a tight down at the root. Some people used it when edging, but Kjartan didn’t really feel like edging tonight.

Erasmus wasn't asking him, though.

Kjartan felt pressure building from the fast pace, breathing heavily. He grabbed the edge of the table for something to balance him. Erasmus was pushing him back with every thrust if he didn’t.

Kjartan was close, but he knew he wouldn't come even if he got there. So instead he enjoyed the ride and looked at Erasmus as he fell apart, final thrust deep as he stuttered to a stop. Kjartan felt the pulsation of Erasmus coming, and lifted his leg down from Erasmus' shoulder to press him closer from the back.

Erasmus let him, breathing heavily and swaying his hips back and forth idly. He was still holding onto Kjartan's erection, but the grip was looser.

Kjartan didn’t say anything, just let Erasmus come down from his high. An irrational part of him thought it was a shame that he'd wanted to use an condom earlier. Luckily that wasn't the part that decided about stuff like that. Usually at least...

Erasmus reached his hand over Kjartan's chest, keeping it up.

"Take these off", he demanded, some of the familiar bossiness returning to him. At first Kjartan was reaching to take the rings off with his hands, but then he decided to just grab Erasmus' wrist and bring the hand closer to his mouth. The tip of Erasmus' finger touched the back of his throat before he got his lips around the ring and pulled it off.

Erasmus stared at him, half confused and half into it. Kjartan wasn't about to stop, and dropped the ring out of his mouth. It fell on top of his collar and rolled down onto the table.

The other rings got the same treatment, and when there were no rings left Kjartan just sucked and licked the fingers in his mouth. 

Erasmus pulled out, making a disgusted face as he pulled the condom off with his free hand. He had to take the other one back to tie it shut. 

Then he put it down, and pushed his drooly fingers inside Kjartan. He curled the fingers up, rubbing purposefully. Kjartan felt the familiar static hitting his lower body and arched his back up from the table. Erasmus stopped squeezing his dick and instead rubbed the tip with his thumb a few times, before he let go altogether. 

"What do you want?" Erasmus asked, and it felt so out of place that Kjartan didn’t even want to answer. It was hard to even breathe, not to mention speak. 

Erasmus pulled out his fingers, making Kjartan curse loudly. 

"Oh FUCK ME! Come on!" 

"Already did."

"Please keep going, for the love of God."

"I should stop solely because of your language."

But he didn’t, and instead used his long fingers to coax a long orgasm out of Kjartan. He didn’t even realise it was happening before it hit him like a truck, his body trembling as he came all over his own shirt. He keened and had his hands fisted in his own hair, like he was keeping himself together. 

Kjartan was left breathing hard, his legs trembling as they hung over the edge of the table. Erasmus stepped back, letting him bask in the afterglow as he focused on making himself presentable again. He also snatched some paper towels from behind the table (why was that there? In case communion wine was spilled?) and wrapped it around the condom and foil. Then he dropped a few on Kjartan's stomach.

"Oh, _fuck_ ", Kjartan whispered with emotion, and then he pushed himself up. One of the towels dropped to the floor, but he grabbed the ones still on him and rubbed off some of the cum on his shirt. Then he slid down from the table and shakily cleaned himself up elsewhere.

It was difficult to ignore that fact that they fucked in a church when Erasmus pushed Kjartan aside to spray disinfectant onto the table. What a hobby to have.

Kjartan tried to ignore the sting of probably being one of many, and pulled his boxers and jeans back on. Thank God for condoms. He wouldn't be suffering the whole way to the hostel in wet underwear. 

"I don't think I learned to pray much", Kjartan said, huffing a laugh to himself. Erasmus turned to look at him, probably done with scrubbing the table from front and on top.

"That didn't seem like a priority to you", Erasmus noted sharply. "But, as I know you're not going to learn it even if I teach you, I'm going to pray for both of us."

Kjartan wasn't sure if it was a joke, but Erasmus brought his hands together. He tilted his chin down and closed his eyes, and Kjartan thought it was an interesting look on him. Like he was, for a few moments, humble.

It was barely audible, and it was Latin. 

Kjartan pulled his jacket on and tied his shoelaces. Then he waited, eyes on the cardinal's profile. Erasmus' lips were moving just the slightest, echoing half audible words.

When he finished, he moved like in slow motion. Turned his head up, and only opened his eyes when he was looking up at the ceiling. He unclasped his hands and lowered his face, leaning down to collect the crumpled paper towels.

 _'Did God say It's Okay To Have Sex In My Home?'_ Kjartan thought. He didn’t ask, though. He had no doubt about how great Erasmus' faith was, and saying something like that would likely get him banned from the cathedral. He would be deserving of it, after this. But so would Erasmus.

Erasmus didn’t say anything, just nodded to the direction of one of the side doors. Kjartan looked around one last time, and then followed him.

It was too dark to see much, but it was probably a space mostly for the cardinals and priests. Erasmus led him through to a door that opened up to the cold outdoors. He waited for Kjartan to go through.

"Can't even get your number?" Kjartan joked, except that he was serious. It was too dark to see, but Kjartan was positive Erasmus rolled his eyes.

"Out", he said. Kjartan stepped out.

Erasmus stepped out with him and closed the door behind them. He had to lock it with a key.

Then he smoothly pushed Kjartan against the outside wall and breathed over his mouth. Kjartan opened his mouth a little, ready for a kiss. Erasmus stayed for a few seconds, and then backed away.

"You don't need a number. I'll be here."

Kjartan groaned, but yeah. It was kind of true. Still.

"Guess I'll see you, then?" he said. His voice was embarrassingly shaky.

Erasmus shrugged.

"That's on you, isn't it."

Then he readjusted his cape, and headed towards the front of the church. Kjartan stayed there for several minutes, leaning against the cold outside wall of the church.

 _'Well. Fuck me,'_ he though.


End file.
